


In The Lord's House

by Nakimochiku



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Drug Use, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: “Feeling it already?” Ryo shouts into his ear. His breath is hot and damp, and Akira can't help but shiver. His arm is solid around Akira’s shoulders and he wants-- “Or maybe you aren't feeling it enough?”(Akira and Ryo share a moment at the Sabbath, before things get serious)





	In The Lord's House

**Author's Note:**

> my only worthwhile contributions to any fandom are porn and angst so. here.

The sabbath seems...Gratuitous, Akira thinks, staring around him wide eyed and lost. He recently googled the word while studying, and it comes to him now in the face of all these naked bodies, flashing lights, drugs and alcohol all mixed into one gratuitous display of human vice. Akira smirks to himself a little hazily, and thinks that he sounds just like Ryo, preaching. 

The two girls beside him are making out, the one on the bench writhing beneath the other, her little black panties soaked with slick. Akira can smell them, kind of, their sweat and arousal, and it mixes with the scent of spilt liquor and too much perfume and a hundred other people all doing the same thing. Like a tangle of snakes mating, too many limbs, too much skin.

Ryo is pristine beside him. He looks almost odd, fully dressed, unmoving, a lone king looking out over his burning kingdom, while bacchanalian festivities grow rowdier and more desperate all around his throne. The lights flash pink, then green, but the clear blue of his eyes still seem to glow through the dimness. He’s ethereal. Akira licks his lips. His mouth is dry, his head is spinning he wants--

Suddenly those clear blue eyes are on him like he can sense the downward spiral of Akira’s thoughts, cutting right through the smokey air. He smiles, lets his fingers trail languidly along the curve of Akira’s arm. “Feeling it already?” Ryo shouts into his ear. His breath is hot and damp, and Akira can't help but shiver. His arm is solid around Akira’s shoulders and he wants-- “Or maybe you aren't feeling it enough?” He smirks deviously and rifles in his pocket for another candy shaped pill. “Want another? I got plenty for us both.”

His face is so close, his lips look so full and soft. Akira shivers again. Behind him, the girl moans high and long, her thigh jerking out and brushing his arm. Maybe she’s coming, Akira doesn’t know but he’s boiling in his skin at the thought. “I don’t think I should--”

“Have another. I’ll do it the way she did,” Ryo cuts him off, pulls him in by the collar, places the pill on his tongue to lick into Akira’s mouth. He melts, grabs at Ryo’s slender shoulders to hold himself together, moans against the hot swipe of his tongue and answers clumsily with his own. Ryo’s fingers curl into his hair, his other hand trailing his side, down his thigh, up again to settle at his hip, pinning him still, except he would never dream of pulling away. Akira longs to be closer. Where has the pill gone? Did he swallow it? Or did it dissolve between their hot wet tongues exactly the way Akira is dissolving, like a lump of sugar? Will Ryo lick him up with that pretty pink tongue? Ryo pulls away and laughs gently, eyes narrowed to watch him like a predator playing with it’s prey, but Akira can’t really hear him over the deep thumping music. His blood seems to rush through his veins to the beat, he pants and wants more kissing, more anything. “How’s that?” Ryo shouts, expression gleeful.

“Good,” Akira answers, leaning up to get closer, to fit himself into Ryo, crawling into his lap and straddling his legs. Ryo laughs and parts them, makes space for Akira to grind stupidly, desperately against his thigh. His bones feel too big for his skin, and he wants-- he barely knows what, but Ryo seems to know and wants to give it to him, easy.  “It’s good, Ryo,” he repeats, fingers hooked in his coat. His toes curl in his sneakers and heat pools in his belly. “It feels so good!”

“Don’t forget that, Akira.” Ryo’s voice sounds deep, heavy. It has gravitas. Akira remembers that word suddenly too, even as he licks another candy pill from between Ryo’s pale elegant fingers, scrabbles at his coat to find skin and whines when he gets none. “Don't forget how good I make everything.” His thumb brushes over Akira’s spit damp lips, his left hand slips down the back of Akira’s pants to grab his ass, pulling him down hard even as he lifts his hips up to grind them together. Akira makes an animal sound of pleasure and ruts, rough uniform slacks and boxers and Ryo’s hip providing delightful friction. “Don't forget how good I make you feel, Akira.”

“I won't,” Akira purrs, licking at Ryo’s thumb, tasting his salt and sweat and expensive skin cream and wanting--, but he doesn’t know what he’s promising, setting up a crude rhythm that Ryo immediately laughs and takes control of. Ryo’s hands seem everywhere, his hips and chest and ass and face. His cock is hard and hot against Akira’s every through their clothes. All colours blur together and swirl like a kaleidoscope, but Ryo’s blue eyes remain the fixed center of it all.

Akira bites his lip, squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head to Ryo’s shoulder, jerking his hips, panting and grinding and so close-- “Ryo,” he whines, mouthing at Ryo’s pale pretty neck. “Ryo I’m--”

Ryos hand is suddenly down the front of his pants, grasping his cock, slicked with spit and sweat and a little precum leaking from Akira’s tip. Akira cries out high enough to cut through the music, but no one seems to notice, simultaneously at the center and the edge of a world of debauchery. “Easy,” he soothes huskily, even though his hand and his voice and his eyes are driving him higher than Akira’s ever been before. “Not yet Akira, make this last and I’ll make it good for you.”

Akira struggles to breathe, struggles to listen. He wants to hump into Ryo’s hand until he comes but-- “Okay,” he wheezes, trembling with the effort of holding his body together. “Okay, I trust you.” Ryo’s eyes gleam, divine and bright, his smile is pure and perfect.

“Good boy, Akira.” He pulls his hand away to fumble at Akira’s uniform button, peeling away his damp underwear inside to bare his cock, red and glistening and hard. Then he wriggles and resettles on the bench between Akira’s thighs, opening his coat and unzipping his own pristine white jeans. His cock emerges from the fabric, long and leaking and flushed pink. Akira’s mouth waters. He wants to taste, feel, do terrible wonderful things he’s never done before, but he’s sure Ryo will show him how. He doesn't know where to put his hands and so lets them rest on Ryo’s heaving chest and trembling belly. “Akira,” Ryo whispers sweetly, palm stripping his cock fast and rough, breathing against his lips. “Touch me too, Akira, we can do it together.”

Carefully, gently, Akira’s fingers curl around Ryo’s cock, velvet hot skin, damp tip, viscous precum, all familiar sensations that are radically foreign in another body. “Fuck,” Ryo hisses, hand moving a little faster. “Just like that.” Akira moans too, hand moving before he even thinks about it, the slide of his cock so easy in his palm, eagerly and intently watching Ryo’s face, the twist of his mouth and his pearly teeth piercing his rose coloured lips. They’ve both dissolved at last and now they are all mixed together. It feels so good Akira could cry.

“Ryo,” Akira prays, sings, and Ryo worships him right back. “It feels good, you feel so good, Ryo--” his hand jerks out of control, desperate to make Ryo feel half as good as he does. Ryo pulls him in by the hips, their cocks and hands brush, hot and wet, intense and intimate. They jerk each other at the same rhythm, grinding into each other, biting at each other’s lips in a vicious parody of a kiss. Electricity dances over his skin, tingles over his nerves, but he can’t let go yet because Ryo hasn’t said -- “pleasepleaseplease--” his whole body rolls on top of Ryo’s, he’s so hot, so close, he feels pulled tight and stretched thin and completely inhuman.

“Look at me, Akira.” He can do nothing but obey, peeling his eyes open to find those glass blue ones, swallowed up in their divinity, an action more intimate than any so far. His orgasm rips from him, tears him apart. He’s shivering and weak when Ryo holds him still to thrust against his hip and limp hand until he comes too with a stuttered moan of his name, beautiful and sure and ruffled. Akira moans softly and slumps against Ryo’s shoulder. For a moment he can ignore the sweat at the small of his back and the sting of a bite mark he doesn’t remember receiving and cooling come on his cramped fingers. Ryo smells wonderful, expensive fur, expensive cologne, expensive alcohol and sex, and Akira. He wants Ryo to always smell like that.

“Akira.” Ryo says, pulling himself together with ease. He grabs a champagne bottle from a passing waitress. Akira can’t even find the energy to stare at her tits. He rifles in his pocket and peels the pill out of it’s packaging, holding it before Akira’s lips. “Have another.” Obediently, Akira licks the pill from Ryo’s fingers and takes a sip of the bottle too, champagne sharp and bubbly on his tongue.

“How much longer?” Akira pulls himself up and flops back onto the bench. To Ryo’s right, a man has dropped to his knees to suck another man off. Gratuitous. They probably looked exactly the same. He tucks himself back into his pants.

“A while yet.” They settle back into their original positions, Ryo’s legs confidently spread, his arm around Akira’s shoulders. “Demons won’t show up to a fake scene like this.”


End file.
